


You Are Enough

by DianaCloudburst (Cloudburst_Ink)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Closeted Alec Lightwood, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Romantic Angst, Romantic Tension, Secret Relationship, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudburst_Ink/pseuds/DianaCloudburst
Summary: After Alec & Magnus have a fight about Alec coming out to his family, Alec can't get the warlock out of his head. When the man himself shows up unexpectedly for a Clave meeting, tensions rise.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 46
Kudos: 248





	You Are Enough

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** _Basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss._
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Taking a quick break from my current chapter project to write this one shot! It came as a prompt on Tumblr from [dramaqueenrolf](https://dramaqueenrolf.tumblr.com/) from [this list](https://cloudburst-ink.tumblr.com/post/615598975238750208/writing-challenge-prompt-list), and I just had to give it a whirl.
> 
> For those of you who prefer my longer works--don't worry! I'm writing every day, and hopefully will start posting this new project by the end of my state's isolation period. I can't wait to share it with you!

“Alec, were you paying attention to anything I’ve been saying?”

Alec’s eyes shot upward, a sheepish blush staining his cheeks. “Sorry, Mom.” He had been trying to pay attention—he really had. But the events of the night before kept flashing through his mind on repeat—Magnus’s angry, hurt expression. The flash of his golden cat eyes, his quiet, broken words.

_ I won’t be anyone’s dirty little secret, Alexander. You need to decide what it is that you really want. _

Maryse stared at him expectantly, one scolding eyebrow raised, and Alec realized belatedly that she had asked him a question.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “Maybe I should sit this meeting out. I’m clearly not up to it today.”

Maryse glared at him with narrowed eyes. “That’s complete nonsense, Alec. If you’re going to run this Institute one day, you need to learn to take responsibility. Now, the representatives will be here in under an hour. Let’s start reviewing the itinerary from the top—and this time,  _ focus _ . I refuse to let the Seelie Queen slip one over on us.”

Alec nodded tiredly. He wondered what Magnus was doing right now. Did Magnus miss him? Was Magnus regretting their fight as much as he was?

What would actually happen if Alec came out to his parents?

Maryse’s stern voice cut into his musings. “Alec. Are you ready? This is serious. I’m trusting you to present yourself appropriately.”

“Yeah,” Alec replied. “Let’s go.”

They met the Clave representatives at the main entrance, before all of them filed down the cavernous stone hallways to the sanctuary, where the Downworld representatives awaited them. This summit had been in the works for months—it was a near miracle to have all of the Downworlder leaders in one place, together.

All except one.

“Where’s the warlock representative?” Maryse demanded. Her footsteps echoed across the cold stone room.

Raphael Santiago, the representative from the New York vampire clan, spoke up. He sounded dreadfully bored, like a grumpy teenager being dragged on errands with his parents. Alec could sympathize—though at eighteen, he already looked much older than the eternally youthful vampire representative.

“He’s on his way,” Raphael drawled. “Apparently there was a last-minute mixup. Catarina can no longer make it.” He checked his watch with an affected sigh. “If only punctuality could be patented by Marc Jacobs, maybe Magnus would consider it for once.”

Alec’s eyes widened, a rush of panicked adrenaline flooding his veins. He resisted the instinctive urge to run his  _ stele _ over his runes in response.

“Magnus  _ Bane _ ?” he asked weakly.

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Do you know another warlock named Magnus in New York?” Then, under his breath, “ _ Idiots. _ ”

As if on cue, the external entrance to the sanctuary flew open, and in strolled the object of all of Alec’s frustrations—and his fantasies.

Magnus Bane was breathtaking. His black leather pants clung to him so tightly, Alec marveled that he could even move at all. His shirt was a deep plum color, shimmering and transparent in places, with tiny hints of gold thread shining throughout it. It was open all the way down to his navel, the bare expanse of his chest filled with a tangled array of necklaces. And somehow, despite all of this, he still managed to look… authoritative. Perhaps it was the sharp cut of his grey suit jacket. Or perhaps it was just the immense, undeniable aura of raw power that always crackled around him like static.

Alec made a concerted effort to keep his mouth from falling open. He mostly succeeded. He meant to duck his eyes, to look away, anything to keep Magnus’s eyes from finding his, but he was too late. He had been drawn in by the glitter and allure and inescapable  _ magnetism _ of Magnus Bane, and the warlock had spotted him instantly. Their eyes locked. It was all Alec could do not to stumble over to him and crash their lips together, murmuring desperate, half-baked apologies into their shared breath. It was all Alec could do not to beg him to understand, to forgive.

For just a moment, Magnus almost seemed surprised. The barest hint of gold swirled through his brown-glamoured irises. Then, just as quickly, Magnus’s facade rebuilt itself, and the warlock flashed him a knowing, slinky smile before gliding straight over to the single empty chair in the room and seating himself between Meliorn and Maia, the representatives from the Seelies and Werewolves, respectively.

“Apologies for my tardiness,” he declared. “I had many important things to attend to.”

Alec knew for a fact that Magnus had nothing going on today. He had mentioned so last night, before their argument. Before Alec had gathered up the sharp edges of his crumbling heart and shambled home to patch himself back up.

Why did it have to be so  _ difficult _ ? They weren’t even really together in the first place. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much.

“So do the rest of us,” Raphael snapped. “Perhaps you could consider that next time you decide to delay us all with your grand entrance.”

“It  _ was _ grand, wasn’t it?” Magnus smirked, his eyes returning to Alec. Alec could feel them like hot brands, searing his skin everywhere the warlock looked. Across his jaw, down his neck, beneath his shirt. He wanted to leave. But everyone was seated now—it would be too conspicuous. His mother would have no idea why—she never could—and she would never forgive him for making such a spectacle. Insteal, Alec let his eyes drop, staring at the table despairingly, and desperately hoped that his chronically transparent expression wasn’t betraying the turmoil raging in his chest.

“Well then,” Magnus declared. “Shall we begin?”

~*~

“You’re being absurd,” Alec accused. He glared at Magnus, but the High Warlock only cast a lazy smile back toward him. They had been negotiating for hours, the warlock’s demands growing ever more ludicrous until finally, Alec could remain silent no longer. Maryse cast a surprised glance in his direction, but sat back and let him speak with a small, satisfied smile.

“Wonderful,” Magnus remarked cheerfully. “Then it seems we’re on even footing. The stipulations the Clave has put forth are completely unreasonable, and the warlocks will not assent to them without significant alterations.”

Alec could feel the tension clenching his jaw, the tightness that coiled across his whole body. Frustration fizzled angrily just below the surface of his skin.

Why did Magnus have to be so  _ infuriating _ ?

“So you’ve wasted the last four hours of all of our time with your feigned negotiations, just to make a point?” Alec seethed.

Magnus laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. “I would argue that the Clave has wasted all of our time by putting forth these unreasonable demands to begin with. Believe me, Alexander—if I wanted to make a  _ point _ , you would know.”

Magnus held Alec’s gaze evenly, refusing to yield. Tension hummed through the air, connecting them with a taut, invisible cord that tugged and pulled whenever one of them moved, or spoke, or even glanced in the other’s direction.

It was driving Alec crazy. Magnus was being completely unreasonable. He wanted to throttle him. He wanted to—

Angels above, he wanted to  _ kiss _ him.

Alec clenched his hands into tight fists below the table, glaring stubbornly into Magnus’s eyes. What was  _ wrong _ with him? Magnus had ended things between them. Magnus had spent the last several hours maliciously derailing this entire summit. Alec should be livid. Alec  _ was _ livid. Why was it only making this irrational urge  _ worse _ ?

Much to Alec’s surprise, Magnus himself didn’t actually seem angry. Buried behind the warlock’s breezy, intractable mask, Alec sensed something unexpectedly soft. Something almost… hopeful.

Alec got a very sudden, very unjustifiable feeling that Magnus was testing him, playing with him. His cheeks only grew redder, sure he had spent the last hour of arguing playing right into the warlock’s hands.

Maryse finally broke the laden silence that fell over the room, clearing her throat. “Perhaps we should all take the evening to consider our options, and reconvene in the morning. In the meantime, I and the other Clave representatives will review our terms and see if we can’t do a little bit of revision.”

“Might as well just start over,” Raphael grumbled, but he rose smoothly to his feet.

Meliorn, who had remained conspicuously silent throughout the whole ordeal, also stood, followed by all of the other attendees. Alec remained where he was, too absorbed in his thoughts to move just yet.

Soon, only he and Maryse remained. Alec braced himself for a scolding. He had let his emotions get the better of him. Even now, his hands still trembled. He was sure his mother could tell.

“Alec,” Maryse said softly. “You did very well. Thank you.”

Alec’s eyes shot upward, wide with surprise. “Wh—what?”

Maryse sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Magnus Bane and I, unfortunately, have somewhat of a history. I’m sure he was baiting you to try to get back at me. I’m sorry for that. You handled it as well as could be expected without any warning. I take full responsibility.”

For just a moment, Alec felt very green. His stomach rolled. “A… history?” he stammered weakly.

At his tone, Maryse looked just about as nauseated as he was. “Oh, goodness no!” she exclaimed. “Nothing like  _ that _ . I would  _ never _ lower myself to something so shameful.”

“Oh,” Alec managed. “Right. Okay. Good.”

“We’ve merely had a few minor confrontations before,” she clarified. “Nothing significant, but warlocks  _ do _ tend to hold grudges.” She sounded like she was lying. Alec didn’t dwell on it. His mind was otherwise occupied.

Alec wondered what his mother would say if she knew—knew that Alec  _ had _ lowered himself to such a state. That Magnus Bane had taken root in the deepest recesses of his mind and flowered there, thoughts of him diffusing over Alec’s every waking moment, drifting in and out of his consciousness unexpectedly, like a faint, distant perfume without a discernible source.

Alec stood very suddenly. “I have to go,” he said. He marched straight out of the room without waiting for his mother’s response.

~*~

Magnus Bane’s loft was hidden above an unassuming empty warehouse in Brooklyn. Alec had only been there a handful of times, but he already knew the route by heart. Important things always stuck with him.

This was the place he had his first kiss. The place he ended his first date, lingering by the darkened doorway, exhausted but too giddy to leave. This was the place Magnus had first shadowed the deflect rune on Alec’s neck with small, faint bruises that Alec always regretted having to heal with an  _ iratze _ before leaving.

Everything between them was so new and fragile. There were so many more small firsts Alec wanted them to have. Magnus was oxygen to him, necessary and life-giving, euphoric in high doses.

He found himself standing breathless outside the warlock’s door before his mind had even a moment to process his actions, the last half hour a hazy blur of subway trains and city sidewalks. Before he could falter, turn around and pretend he never came to this place, he raised his hand and knocked.

The door swung open while Alec’s hand was still raised. And then Magnus was there, draped against the door frame, sinfully flawless in his billowy shirt, now without the fitted jacket to offer even a hint of professionality.

He was stunning. For a moment, Alec just stuttered stupidly. He was really  _ here _ . Why?  _ Why _ did he come here? He could never give Magnus what he wanted. He could never be himself. Not to his family. Not to the Clave.

Magnus arched a single amused eyebrow, watching Alec struggle. He leaned forward slightly, crowding Alec’s space so Alec had to look up at him. It only served to further scatter Alec’s thoughts, leaving him lost and regretting this rare bout of impulsive decision making. “Have you just come here to stare at me, Alexander? I’m sure the 2016 copy of the ‘Sexy Warlocks’ calendar would suffice for that.”

That drew Alec up short. “What? A calendar?” he asked. “Why would a calendar be sexy?”

Magnus only shook his head, smiling in that pitying, patronizing way he did when Alec missed a reference that most mundane people might have understood. Alec tore his gaze from Magnus’s soft, quirked lips just long enough to form a single coherent sentence.

“Can I come in?” Alec finally managed.

“Fine,” Magnus sighed. “But make it quick. I’ve got lots of things to do, you know.” He turned and led Alec into the loft. There was the sofa, where they had kissed after their first date for what felt like hours.

Magnus did not have a lot of things to do. Alec already knew that. This was just another one of Magnus’s infuriating games.

“Why do you have to be this way?” Alec demanded abruptly, halting just inside the doorway.

Magnus huffed and threw his arms up, spinning back to face him. “Like what, Alexander?”

“Like… like…  _ this _ !” Alec exclaimed, waving his hand vaguely. He couldn’t put to words the way Magnus was. The way he could simultaneously both incense Alec and send his heart fluttering in all directions. The way he was constantly both taunting him and bewitching him. The way he constantly challenged every truth that Alec held sacred and crushed it, gently, between his beautiful, manicured fingers.

Magnus shook his head disbelievingly. “What?” he challenged. “What am I like, Alec?” His glamour flickered, then faded. His sharp, slitted pupils held Alec’s gaze tenaciously, and Alec realized for the first time that maybe Magnus was just as lost as he was, just as adrift in the confusing newness of it all.

Magnus set his jaw, waiting obstinately for an answer. There was only one that Alec could think to give him—the same one that had been nagging at him all day, trailing every thought, punctuating every stolen glance and secret daydream.

Alec grabbed the loose edges of Magnus’s shirt on either side of his perfect, bronzed chest and tugged him forward. Magnus stumbled, eyes widening in surprise, and fell straight into Alec’s kiss.

Somehow, Alec managed to turn them around until he had Magnus back up against the door to the loft. A quiet moan escaped Magnus’s lips when Alec pressed up against him, drawing Alec’s attention downward to the bob of his throat. Alec sucked on the sensitive skin below Magnus’s jaw, grazing it with his teeth as a dark, possessive bruise took shape. Magnus whimpered, melting beneath the quiet, frantic intensity of Alec’s ministrations.

“I’m sorry,” Alec whispered against Magnus’s skin, wet and red from his kiss. His breath tumbled between them and curled hotly against Alec’s face. “I’m sorry. I’ll never be enough for you.” He kept his face buried at the junction between Magnus’s neck and shoulder, afraid to look up and see all of his own fears confirmed in the warlock’s ageless, infinite eyes.

Eyes that Alec loved. He couldn’t deny it. Not anymore. Even if it would never mean anything. Not from him.

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus sighed. He pushed Alec back, painstakingly gently, and raised one hand to softly caress Alec’s cheek. Alec closed his eyes, fighting to center himself after the outburst. He should have controlled himself. He should be ashamed. “Open your eyes, darling,” Magnus commanded quietly.

Slowly, reluctantly, Alec did. He was ashamed of the way his eyelids burned with pent up tears, ashamed of the way he couldn’t just let Magnus go, to find someone else who could make him happy in ways that Alec never could. He was ashamed that the idea of Magnus with anyone but him hurt so  _ much _ . He was ruined for anyone else. Even if by some miracle, he did come out—even if he could live freely as himself in the society the Clave had built—it would never be the same. No one would ever be  _ Magnus _ .

Nephilim only ever loved once.

Magnus smiled—it was small, and bittersweet. He looked terribly sad, and Alec blamed himself. He should never have come here. He was only torturing both of them.

Then Magnus leaned forward, brushing his lips ever so gently against Alec’s. Alec didn’t move—he couldn’t. He could only stand there and let himself fall into the immeasurable peace that always fell over him when Magnus’s lips were on his, like just for a second, everything was right in the world. He tried to absorb as much of that perfect, aching feeling before it all crumbled into nothing but a memory.

“You are enough,” Magnus whispered against his lips. “Alexander, you are everything. Don’t you see?”

Alec only shook his head, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he tried to lean in and steal just one more kiss, just one more second of this fleeting happiness. But Magnus stopped him, his fingers firm but gentle against Alec’s jaw.

“All I want is  _ you _ , Alexander,” Magnus breathed. “Don’t you see? You. This. Not the warped, squished up shaped the Clave has pressed you into.”

Alec bit his lip, once again fighting back a swell of deep, cutting emotion that threatened to boil over and spill through his eyes. “I don’t know how to be anything else,” he admitted haltingly. His voice came choked and rough.

“Then let me help you,” Magnus begged. “Please—please, promise me you’ll try. That’s all I ask.”

Alec buried his face against Magnus’s chest, too humiliated to let the warlock see the tears that finally broke free. He took a long, shaky breath, inhaling the achingly familiar scent that was distinctly Magnus—his sandalwood shampoo, a hint of whiskey, and a vague, confusing array of fantastical potion ingredients that Alec couldn’t name.

Then, slowly, he nodded. “I’ll try,” he choked out. “I will, for you. I’ll try.”

Magnus kissed the top of his head, and a wave of warmth spread over Alec’s entire body, the exhaustion of the past few days settling heavily over every muscle.

“That’s all I ask, darling.” Magnus wrapped his arms around him, squeezing tightly as he rested his chin atop Alec’s head. “I’m sorry, too,” he murmured. “I never should have let you leave last night.”

Alec only pressed his face more tightly against Magnus’s chest, sinking into the embrace. He felt so small. Here, he wasn’t the eldest Lightwood, or the hair to the Institute, or a member of the Clave. Here, with Magnus, he was just Alec.

“Will you stay tonight?” Magnus asked hesitantly. “Not for anything racy, I just—I’d like to know you’re safe. You seem exhausted, and the subway lines are on limited service at this hour.”

Alec nodded. “I’d like that.” He had only slept over at Magnus’s once before—and that had been an accident. He had woken up on the sofa thoroughly confused, and immediately panicked.

“You can have the bed, if you like,” Magnus offered quietly.

Alec swallowed. His heart fluttered. “Maybe both of us could?” he asked hesitantly.

Magnus squeezed him more tightly. “I’d love nothing more, darling.” Then, carefully, he disentangled himself from Alec, and gently kissed both of his cheeks. “Let’s go to bed.”


End file.
